Black and White
by Miyree
Summary: Collection of drabbles and one-shots in Shinji's POV. Chapter 15 - Hiyori's Final Mistake
1. Black and White

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

If shinigami, clad in black, are the children of light, and hollows, shrouded in white are the offspring of darkness, what does that make vizards? A dull, dreary grey? Grey could never capture the vividness, the intensity experienced by constantly living with the threat of being devoured by your inner hollow; your other self.

Betrayal is something that one can never be fully desensitized to. This is especially true when the betrayal comes from within one's soul, their final sanctuary. Light brown irises meet grey ones in a sea of black. The same face, the same characteristics, with a personality that is an inverse of the original. No, who can say which came first? Did one even come before the other? After all, there cannot be darkness without light, and darkness is born from the shadows cast by light. Wherever there is one, the other will exist. It may be hidden, but one day everyone will find a mirror in a corner of their souls they did not know existed.

Hollowfication is really just a posh name for meeting your reflection. A vizard is really just a glorified soul, one that has met and managed to cohabit with their other half. 'Breakdown Sphere' is truly an appropriate name for the Hogyoku. A ball which forces the walls between the two halves of the same soul to come crashing down, to acknowledge each other's presence.

Many reject their other self, and destroy themselves in the process. I know not why I am not within their ranks. Even after living for as many years as I have with the demon inside, I still reject it with every atom we do not share. I owe my life to one who dedicated their life to the preservation of life, and I owe my ability to see in more than just black and white to one who dedicated their life to the destruction of life. I vow that I shall bring down the one who hurt my pride and my property. I shall do it, not as a shinigami and not as a hollow, but as one with the freedom to fight for themselves.


	2. Lies

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

Lies. Words that are false. Just like those smiles and promises that were given when I lived in the Gotei 13. How many people said that they would always stand by me and how many gave their word that they would follow me into battle until they became one with the earth?

You're still alive.

If I had to make a comparison I'd say that lies are like light snacks - soufflés, maybe. No matter how many you eat they never seem to truly fill you up. Is that why I always felt empty, back then? Why I couldn't shake off the feeling that something was missing inside of me? Was I just too focused on Aizen's betrayal - which I knew would come any day - that I missed the betrayal of everyone surrounding me? I can still see their faces, earnestly convincing me that they mean no harm.

I remember hearing once upon a time that a person cannot live without placing their trust in someone. Fanciful thinking. A person can breathe, eat, work, _live_ for every day of their life refusing to trust anyone else. They are still alive, their physical body lives on; it is only their spirit which has died; the light igniting their eyes, their vibrant smile. I should know; forced as I was to gaze on helplessly as the ones I cared for, the ones sharing my predicament lost their ability to believe in anyone, going around with dead eyes and a rotting mind. Who can blame them? Only a fool or a saint would be impervious to the pain from the realization that all you thought you knew were lies. Slowly, ever so slowly, we gradually began to open our hearts again – but only to each other; only to the ones who had shared our chain of fate.

With a hundred years gone, I can no longer say that I blame the Gotei 13; I bear no grudge against them. Whenever someone mentions them, I don't burn up with anger, or self-righteousness. The Gotei 13 has nothing to do with me anymore; I've become detached from it mentally, as well as officially.

So why can I not stop thinking about those _lies_?


	3. This is the End

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**A/N:** Includes spoilers for manga chapter 392 (The Breaking Glaciers). I'm warning you now that there's character death in this drabble. If you don't like that kind of thing, you probably shouldn't read this. I won't say what the scenario for this drabble is, because if you can't work it out, it just means that my writing's not good enough. Happy reading!

* * *

I'm surrounded by carnage. Bloody, decaying carnage. That's simply the only way to describe the bodies littered around me; rotting and turning into spiritual particles as I stand here. My eyes ache; the tears want to come, but won't fall. Blood drips steadily from my multiple wounds, but the pain refuses to register itself in my mind.

_They're all gone._

The cold wind blows and stings my eyes. The air is stale, and I can taste the blood tainting the oxygen I draw into my battered lungs. A numbing sensation gnaws at my chest. It asks me what I am doing. Why am I still here after I let everyone down?

_That bastard._

Their faces, frozen in shock and pain. The realization that this is the end melting their expression into either acceptance or fury at their own weakness. My face, contorted with frustration at being unable to stop the sword ending their lives. _His_ face, smugly smirking, revelling in the bloodshed. The skies don't hide their grief, they split open and pour out their innards.

_I was going to protect them._

Who could have known that my negligence from over a hundred years ago would make things end this way? Hiyori, severed at the waist. Lisa, skull crushed under the force of a Gran Rey Cero. Love, lungs punctured and destroyed from a deadly sword strike. The list goes on. One name after another. One person after another, dead because I didn't stop him. My hands are stained crimson; a crimson that no amount of soap and water can ever wash off.

_Collapse, Sakanade._

Kyōka Suigetsu. He was using it the whole time. Powerless, that's what we were. Ichigo couldn't see the same things we did, he wasn't caught it the web of the illusion like we were. Yet he still couldn't stop the sword that came arcing down across his body. He joined the ranks of those that had fallen. Was it then that we truly lost hope? The hope that we had already tried to abandon?

_I'm left standing._

I fought as hard as I could, but to no avail. Everyone fell around me. After Hinamori's death, Hitsugaya lost all sense of self-preservation; determined to join her, wherever she may have gone to. The dance went on, and one by one the dancers made their exit from the stage. He said not to touch me; to leave me alone. I still fought, but was only warded off, no matter how much I tried to intervene.

_Is this my punishment?_

With no one left around me, he decides that the battle is over; he has won. He leaves me, tells me once again that everything turning out this way is my fault; he thanks me for my incompetence. He spares my life, he says, but it's an obvious lie. 'Sparing' is done out of compassion, mercy. He leaves me alive so that I can curse my existence, my ineptness; curse the life that gave me everything, only to take it back at the most crucial moment.

_I failed them all._


	4. Clumsy Actions Say More Than Fancy Words

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

Golden tresses fall to the floor. _My _golden tresses. I stare in shock, unable to comprehend this simple fact. Hiyori, that annoying, bratty, tomboyish Hiyori. The kitchen scissors. Put together resulted in the hair I cherished so much swirling around my feet. Right, count to ten. One... Two... Who gives a damn... Ten.

"HIYORI! You... WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR?" The smug grin on the miniature blonde's face grew.

"HAH! Ya had spilt ends, baka Shinji! I was only gonna help you cut them, but ya moved, so now ya really are a baldy, ya baldy!" A vein popped on my forehead.

"Firstly, I trim my hair every week, so there's no way I had split ends. Secondly, how is this-" I waved in the general direction of the chaos that had once been my luscious locks "-my fault? If someone suddenly attacks ya with kitchen scissors of course yer gonna move! Now what're ya gonna do to fix this, eh?" I impatiently tapped my fingers against my folded arms. Hiyori scowled and her hand itched towards her foot... Oh no...

_Thwack._

I clutched my face tenderly. So, not only had Hiyori ruined my hair, turning it into something so repulsing I didn't even want to try and describe, but she had also blessed my face with a red sandal-mark that would definitely bruise.

"Like _hell_ I'm gonna do anything to fix it. Yer too fussed about your appearances, anyways! And maybe now that no girl will ever go for you again you'll be able to stop yer womanizing ways. I've done ya a world of good, so don't complain, dickhead!" She stormed out of the warehouse we vizards called home, leaving a stunned silence hanging in the air. I turned to the other vizards, who had been watching the whole episode in amusement and sought out Lisa.

"Can you fix it?" I pleaded, making my best puppy eyes. She gave me a cold stare before answering bluntly.

"No."

"Bu-but! I can't leave my hair like this!"

"Yes, I am skilled at cutting hair, hollows, vegetables and really just cutting in general, but with damage of that degree, even I cannot do anything. You're going to need to go to the hairdressers." I paled slightly. Hairdressers had always scared me, for some reason. Maybe due to the fact that it was always some chick I didn't know talking on her mobile phone whilst reading a magazine and simultaneously cutting my hair. Pardon me for being nervous over the outcome.

I emerged from the hairdressers with my hair cut at jaw length and with Lisa handing me a lollipop, telling me that I was a very good boy. Having had to pry me off of the couch and drag me off to the salon gave her the impression that I wouldn't sit in the chair, but would be difficult and would make a bid for freedom by, say, attempting to bolt out of the closest exit available (the window). Can't quite figure out why she'd think that. Lisa's been a pro at capturing rogue men ever since Kyōraku was put under her supervision all those years ago. I'm not stupid. Escape was futile from the moment I was hauled in through the front door of the hairdressers.

Walking in through the front door of the warehouse revealed Mashiro, Kensei, Hachi, Love and Rose staring at an item on the kitchen strolled right in and grabbed the object in question: a brown newsboy styled hat with a Post-It note stuck on the stop.

"What's this?" She demanded of the others. Mashiro shrugged and answered for all of them.

"Hiyori came back with that, shoved it on the table muttering something about 'baka Shinji' and went upstairs, leaving it there." Lisa raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"So you just left it there and didn't touch it or read the note?" Mashiro and the others fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Well, I wouldn't say so much 'didn't touch it' as 'didn't examine every inch of the hat and Post-It for a hidden clue'." I couldn't hold back my curiosity any longer.

"What _does_ that note say?" Lisa rolled her eyes and read it out.

_"Baka Shinj, here's a hat to hide yer baldyness with. An' I'm not apologizin'!"_ Lisa looked up, confused. "Why the _hell_ were you guys looking so shocked at this?" Rose rubbed his arm awkwardly.

"Well, that note... That present... For Hiyori-chan, something like that happens less frequently than once in a blue moon." As the banter continued I walked forwards briskly, grabbed the hat and note out of Lisa's hands and went up to my room, ignoring the puzzled faces of the ones I left behind. I looked at the hat in my hands and smiled to myself. Shoving it onto my head I examined my reflection in the mirror. The face looking back at me wasn't the one I was used to, both the hair and the style of the hat looked alien to me. Somehow, though, I felt like I could get used to bearing Hiyori's mark. The hair had been cut clumsily, the hat bought in way of a clumsy apology and it would be worn as a clumsy way of acknowledgment. Acknowledgement of the fact that its owner belonged to a certain short, blonde vizard.


	5. Falling Through Time

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**A/N:** Contains implied character death. Just a warning.

* * *

I stare at the sword protruding from my chest in confusion. Crimson ribbons fall from the puncture, and strangely I find the sight hypnotic. Who would've guessed that my blood could look so - for want of a better word – _beautiful? _The blade slides out of my body smoothly, like an oiled machine. The pain comes afterwards, a dull throbbing that escalates into an unbearable burning. It spites my eyes; daring them to shed salty crystals; scalds the back of my throat with the desire to cry out. Tears do not fall, and neither does a scream pierce the blood-soaked air; centuries of perfecting my poker face paying off in the fraction of a second. Swivelling my head round for what seems like an eternity to my distorted senses reveals the owner of the sword to be not Aizen, as I had presumed, but the other, Ichimaru Gin. I can't help but feel a little cheated. I had mentally prepared myself for death, a part of me even awaited it with anticipation, but falling now to the other, the _subordinate_, left me with a bitter taste in my mouth and more than a little anger rooted deep in my heart.

My former third seat's trademark grin is stretched across his face. He told me once that he wore it as a final courtesy to those he slew; so that they were sent off on their journey with a smile. That same sinister smile would be the last thing I ever saw, just as it had been to my predecessors.

"You bastard", I manage to gasp, before I start coughing up blood. I was just thinking that I wasn't losing enough through the ever-so-slightly gaping hole in my chest. Ichimaru's smile broadens, a feat I would've thought impossible, and his voice is somehow both gentle and cold. The sound of his tongue caressing his words sends shivers down my spine that I refuse to admit are due to fear.

"Bye-bye, Hirako-taicho."

The world turns into a fuzzy black and white television screen. One with bad reception at that. The blood pounding in my ears is impossibly loud; a tell-tale sign that I'm about to fall unconscious. Sure enough, tunnel vision is taking over the 1920s television set. My head starts to drop, my eyelids close. What am I doing here again? I'm so... so tired. All I want to do is sleep. God, if you really exist, can I sleep?


	6. Fractured Sentences

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**A/N:** Spoilers for manga chapter 377 (Shout at the Dark). Shiyori.

* * *

She falls. Gracefully, her torso and legs part ways and she falls. A face, painted with a mixture of disbelief and chagrin. Hers. A face, shock and devastation etched into its contours. Mine.

Despair. The only thing in my mind. Denial follows. This isn't happening. I catch her. Desperately calling her name. Trying to keep her awake. She mustn't fall asleep. She mustn't. Turns to face me; the expression of a child who has messed up and knows it adorns her features. Sorry, she says. Apologizes. Tries to console me. It doesn't work. She never apologizes. Doing so now only makes me sink deeper into the state of despair I seem to have patented recently.

I spin. Search out the one who heals. He is hurt; unable to help. She will die. Cold realization stabbing through my heart is being denied by my head. She will live. Somehow. Dying is not permitted. I won't let her. Not after all we have been through together.

The other. There is another who could help. They are not here. They are needed. Now. I cry out to the sky, calling for the one who can bring the healer. Sweating in panic. No time to lose.

I make a silent promise with myself. If we make it through this, I will definitely tell her that she is the biggest idiot of them all. I will definitely tell her how stupid she is. I will definitely tell her I love her.

So please, let her live. Let me live. Let us live.


	7. Letter to a Mangaka

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach

**A/N: **Just felt like doing this. I don't know if anyone's done it before, but I thought it would be interesting to do. There was an address for Shinji on the right-hand side when this was in Word, but I forgot that you can't have right-hand side formatting on fanfiction, so that had to go.

* * *

Dear Kubo Tite,

I suppose that you are accustomed to receiving letters from fans; Bleach is one of the most well-known mangas/ animes in the world, after all. However, it is probably a rare event, even for you, to receive a letter from one of your characters. You are getting one now, from me, because I feel that there are several important issues that need to be addressed in Bleach. My contract states that I am allowed to complain, so complain I shall. Let the fourth-wall breaking commence.

The first issue I wish to bring up is the one that sits the heaviest on my mind and on my heart. Why the hell d'ya keep making Hiyori beat me up? Eh? I get enough abuse from her when we're not working, but then you make her hit/ kick/ slap, etc. me even more! I think that this is completely and totally childish and NOT FUNNY, no matter how much you and the fans think otherwise. My routine, when I get home has now been forced to be: open the door; drop everything; go to the bathroom; gently clean face; apply Bio-Oil. I'm a guy! I have my manly pride! First, you destroyed that by making me cut off all of my hair – my beautiful, silky, shiny, luminous, luxurious – okay, you get the idea – hair, and then you rub the remains of it in the dirt every day by making Hiyori abuse me. I recently learned some slang English teenagers use that describes this situation perfectly – what was it again? Oh yeah - it's not on!

I am also concerned about the matter of my zanpaku-to. Or rather, to be precise, my bankai. You see, I am truly fond of my shikai, the inverted world, but I just cannot see how you intend to expand on that idea, and create my bankai. I know that I have one, I'm an ex-captain of the Gotei 13, after all. Well, I guess it'll be ok, you seem to know what you are doing, but let me warn you. If my bankai doesn't kick butt, somebody, or some_thing_ is gonna get it. Watch yerself. Watch Mr Teddy Bear too.

Now, I know that I am shockingly attractive and charismatic, but I don't think that needs to be played up quite as much as you seem to do. What I am referring to, specifically, is the habit that you gave me of calling every girl my first love with a dead-pan expression. While this is a pretty cool trait (I think), I would appreciate it if it wasn't there. Due to it I seem to have collected a rather large group of stalkers who are all girls I once called my 'first love'. They are scary. Impossibly so. Either give me a bodyguard to save me from their revengeful clutches or get rid of this self-crucifying habit of mine! Please, I beg of you!

I want you to know that I'm not criticizing you. Well, not as much as this letter makes out, anyway. I really am truly thankful to you for giving me this role in Bleach and for making me – let's admit it – a pretty awesome character. However, I feel that my awesomeness is not reaching the readers as well as it should be, and it is for that reason that I would like to request more screen time. I mean, in the two popularity polls that I have been in I have only placed 42nd (in the first) and 41st (in the second). I think that this is pretty disgraceful, to be honest. Asane Keigo placed higher than me both times! We both are comically abused, I am much better looking, much cooler, smarter _and_ I'm a vizard. He has nothing on me. I'm prepared to bet that if I had more screen time, I could beat him in the next poll, hands down.

On a final note, could I, er, possibly not die in this battle against Aizen? Just a thought. Thanks for all the work you do, all the time you put in, all the pain you suffer, etc. etc.

Yours Sincerely, and all that crap,

Hirako Shinji


	8. Behind the Smile

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**A/N:** Sorry for the gap in updates. There's going to be a lot more of that. My half term break is over, and being at school with coursework and important exams looming means that I'm not going to have a lot of time to write. I'll do my best though - I need a break from school anyway. I'm not too happy with this chapter - it's a bit disconnected and the ideas are a bit strange. More than a bit, actually. Ah well, here it is, in its sorry state.

* * *

Strolling past faceless pedestrians as I make my way to the convenience store, I can't help but smirk. Eyes on me; mouths gaping. Girls whispering to each other in their tight-knit groups. My grin widens, revealing rows of perfect teeth.

The kind of guy who stands out and knows it. That's who I am. Hirako Shinji. Former captain of the fifth squad in the Gotei 13, now vizard and teenage heartthrob. Well, the heartthrob bit isn't official; I haven't exactly been featured in _Bliss_ or _Cosmo Girl_. But, in my opinion, any guy who manages to capture the undivided attention of every teenage female he comes across has pretty much earned that title. Maybe it's the ring in my tongue; maybe it's my sharp haircut. It could be my laid-back posture, or it could be the self-confident smile that steals itself across my face. Whatever it is, it's got all eyes on me.

Not that it's all that great.

Who actually wants to be the centre of attention the whole time? I used to. Used to crave the spotlight; the heat of a thousand eyes watching my every move. What changed? I lost myself, that's what. Lost my own soul in the vastness of my mind. He came. Came and started changing me from the inside. Slowly taking control. Subtly influencing my actions, changing the smile on my face from one of affectionate amusement to a sadistic grin. The Hōgyoku put the brakes on our hollowfication, but did not undo the damage already inflicted. It was up to us to defeat our inner demon; the one constantly poised to take control, should we let our concentration slip for the briefest of instants.

It was hard. Harder for me than I let on. They all thought that Hiyori found it the most difficult; she took the longest in her inner battle. They thought wrong. Every time I'd close my eyes I'd be thrust back into the nightmarish confrontation with the masked one. Over and over again. I was just lucky that after transforming into a hollow once, I was able to keep the liquid bone behind a dam whilst I fought my mirror image.

Curse my existence. So many have done that, and undoubtedly many will. I shouldn't exist – none of us are should. It was just a peculiar turn of events and a reckless captain that resulted in our freedom. Freedom from the Gotei 13; freedom from Soul society. Freedom from the chains holding our souls in their rightful place.

I guess that I consider myself to be attractive; a heartthrob with thousands of teenage girls crushing on him. That's why I can't help but laugh to myself as I see them trip over themselves in an attempt to get a better look. They think that looks are everything, and I won't deny that they play a pretty big role in my life. But I wonder; just how many of those girls would be willing to have their souls feasted on by the monster they admire?


	9. Rain

**A/N**: Okay, when I said that there'd be big gaps in updates, I didn't expect them to be quite as long as this one was. The good news is that I actually managed to get out another chapter, and that if I live to the end of March I may be able to resume my life.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

* * *

Ichigo hates the rain. Every time the sky rumbles ominously he'll run for cover. The same goes for Rukia; for Rose and all the other vizards. Although, in Rose's case, I'm pretty sure he's just worried about his hair. Everyone else hates the tears from above because they all associate rain with some bad experience they've had. In Ichigo's case, his mother died on a rainy night. Hiyori was separated from her Rukongai 'family' in a storm. Lisa actually died when the skies decided to crack open and make the road her car was driving on deadly dangerous. Literally. As for me, I can't see what's wrong with some good old H2O falling from above. It cleanses the sky. It cleanses me.

The feeling of chilled water dripping down your face; your hair matting itself to your head. Gasping as tears that don't belong to you flow down the contours of your face. Goosebumps standing up on your skin as the cold reaches into and claims your bones. The numbing feeling spreading from the tips of your fingers to the depths of your heart. I love all of it. It drowns out the pain that accompanies living as long as I have. It washes away my thoughts and my mind.

Rain symbolizes a new beginning. The heavy, dark clouds brooding over the land dissipate into fluff, caught on the snags of the sky. The plants are revitalized by the life-giving water; the world draws clean, fresh air into its lungs. The tears and the hardships are swept down the drains to be forgotten, if only for a while. The storm in the heart clears with the one in the heavens. Poignant clarity is visible everywhere in the precious seconds after the last drop has fallen.

Maybe I lie. It's true that I love the rain for the feeling of freshness it brings, but there's more to it than that. Rain cleans and rinses, everyone knows that. What it washes away differs from person to person. Sometimes it's heartbreak, sometimes loss. Other times it's more physical: the dirt from a scraped knee, the crumbs speckled across a toddlers face; remnants of their last meal.

Rain is truly spectacular. It can even cleanse hands of the crimson stains soaked into them.


	10. Mother

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

**A/N:** Kind of a mother's day special, that's what inspired this piece anyway. Enjoy!

* * *

"Shinji?" Worried eyes sought out mine. "Shinji, promise me that you won't leave." I stared up at the woman desperately clutching at me.

"Mummy, what's wrong?" My mother shook me slightly, out of anguish.

"Nothing's wrong – Shinji, just promise me."

"Okay, Mummy." She breathed a sigh of relief, releasing her clawed grip on me.

"Thank goodness... thank goodness..."

"Mummy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear. I'm just going to have to go out for a bit. Okay?"

"Mmm." She smiled down at me; a tired, despairing smile, but a smile all the same. She pulled out a handkerchief from inside her sleeve – a magic trick that entranced me every time – and began to rub distractedly at some patch of dirt on my cheek. The handkerchief vanished; my mother straightened and gave me a final grin before turning and leaving the small alleyway we were hiding out in.

"I'll see you soon, Shinji. I promise."

"Mmm." I replied again, preoccupied with a sparkly pebble on the ground.

I don't know how long I waited. Minutes melted into hours, into nights, into days. I heard yells and the spitting of gunfire as I trembled in my hideout between two metal bin canisters. Cowering, I fulfilled my promise to my mother. Cowering, I didn't search for her, or her corpse. Cowering, I did nothing when I was discovered and a gun pointed at my head. The bullet passed through my skull and I was sent to Soul Society, cowering all the way.

I sat in the doorway of a shop in the sixty-eighth district of North Rukongai. I didn't play with any of the other children; I was too 'gloomy' for them. It didn't bother me; I didn't want to hang around them anyway. It didn't feel right to enjoy myself, not with the stifling heaviness in my heart. I only really had one coherent thought, or maybe it was a feeling, that grew every day.

_I want to get stronger._


	11. Solar Eclipse

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**A/N:** Okay, okay. That break was way too big. The good news, though, is that I've now completed all coursework and it's only revision for exams that remains, so I should (hopefully) be able to update more. The origin of this little fic was that my mother pretty much dared me to write the blackest that I could. I lost inspiration half-way through and, as a result, this isn't nearly as black as I would like it to be. I'll probably write something light-hearted next though - a break from all the angst is well-needed, no?

* * *

Breathe. That's the key. Breathe.

_Slam._ My fist collides with the brick wall in front of me. My knuckles are grazed and begin to bleed, but I can barely feel the pain. Concentrate on breathing. Channel all of that anger out of your body through your lungs.

_Slam._ Brick meets skin again. My blood boils; I can feel the noxious poison bubbling through my veins; pumping around my body faster and faster. My fingers curl into fists and tremble involuntarily. My normally upturned lips are curled downwards, into a ferocious snarl. Eyes narrowed, I stare down the wall in front of me, as if it could cower and admit defeat. I kick it, bringing up a cloud of dust and swivel around, stalking away. Stalking my prey. Prey, referring to everyone in this damned world. Everyone.

Needless to say, there's going to be a massacre. You can bet that I won't stop until these hands of mine are stained crimson with blood. A crimson that I can delight in; one that will never fade.

A sadistic grin spreads itself across my features and I leer down at the city below. Unsuspecting. I step off of the cliff-like ledge and land on the tiled roof of a house below with a barely-audible _'thump'_. I shunpo. It's over in the bat of a lazy eyelid. Four innocents that will never again awake. I move methodically; house by house. Cold satisfaction grips my heart.

One by one they fall; one by one the world is rid of scum. Scum that cowered when cowering was out of the question. Scum that sat back and watched the slaughter.

It's their turn.

They will pay.

They will pay in blood.

I can guarantee it.


	12. Captain Vs iPod

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach. Or Apple, for that matter.

"Lemme see! Lemme see!" I shook the unusually-hyper Mashiro off of my arm .

"If you don't behave, I won't let you see it." I told her sternly. She quietened down for about a tenth of a second before forgetting this crucial piece of information and resuming her whining. Sighing, I placed the tiny clear box on the kitchen table. As if summoned by the noise, the rest of the vizards materialized, all staring agog at the plastic case.

"What is it?" Mashiro asked in awe.

"An iPod." I replied. "It's about time I replaced my record player and everybody seems to have one of these nowadays. I believe this model is called a 'Nano'."

_"Oooh..."_ Was the consensus.

"So this thing plays music?" Rose inquired, more than slightly disbelievingly.

"Apparently so." I answered, also completely engrossed with the tiny orange wonder in its display case.

"How does it work? How does it work!" Mashiro had gotten over her awe and was now even more excited than she had been previously – a feat which shouldn't have been possible.

"I don't know," I replied, "but that's why these things come with instructions."

"To hell with instructions!" Lisa butted in. "We were taichos and fukutaichos of the Gotei 13; there's no way this – this _toy_ could defeat us!" With that she reached out and grabbed the iPod

faster than any of us could react to. She removed the lid with way more force than necessary, took out the gadget and discarded everything else.

"Hey, watch it!" I yelled, shunpoing desperately to catch everything before they hit the floor. Lisa ignored me and pressed the big button in the middle of the wheel-thing on the front of the iPod. Nothing happened.

"Che." Lisa said under her breath, annoyed. She put down the device on the table and glared at it. Then the screen switched on. Eight pairs of eyes widened until they threatened to pop out of their owners' heads. A white image of an apple appeared admidst the black. Needless to say, Mashiro had to inquire about this.

"It's the company's logo;" I informed her smugly, "they're called Apple."

"That's a silly name." Mashiro shot back, feeling slightly snubbed.

"It's not doing anything. Lisa broke it." Came Hiyori's annoyed voice. "There's only one way to deal with these kind of things." My body locked down, rigid with shock.

"Hiyori – no!" Yelled Love, but it was too late. She had smashed her flip-flop into the iPod. _My _iPod.

_"Nooo..."_ My strangled cry sounded stupid, even to my ears, and earned me a few odd looks.

"Look, it's not that bad." Lisa tried to console me. I snorted derisively, looking at the pile of wires and fragments of glass. She sighed and turned to Hachi. "Can you fix this?" He nodded and my precious iPod remains were surrounded by an orange box, where they started to reassemble themselves.

When my iPod had been fixed and everyone was sitting quietly around the table, I addressed them sombrely.

"I think we ought to read the instructions." Mashiro (of course) grabbed them immediately.

"Download iTunes." She read.

"Next." I commanded. "That's just a ploy to get you to buy more of their stuff." Mashiro nodded and complied.

"Plug iPod into computer." There was a deathly silence before Mashiro lifted her head and spoke in a small voice.

"We don't have a computer, do we?"

_"Shit."_

Round one to Apple.


	13. Babysitting

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach.

**A/N:** Okay, okay, I lied about updating more frequently. But it wasn't my fault! I went skiing and was _told_ that I would have internet access, but I just didn't. If it makes you feel any better, I'm thoroughly bruised and have pulled muscles I had no idea existed.

* * *

"Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-BATMAN! BOOM!" I winced as my eardrums threatened to burst. The hyper three-year-old – Fujimura Rina – zoomed around the warehouse, arms spread out. She tripped over her foot and fell flat on her face, prompting a smirk to spread across my face. This... this... _brat_ had been dumped on my hands because she was Ichigo's cousin (his mum's sister's daughter) and Ichigo had to look after her. No – that's not right. Ichigo was _supposed _to look after her, but he had dumped Rina here at an ungodly hour (3pm) to go and 'hunt hollows'. Yeah, if hunting hollows involves playing tonsil hockey with a certain Kuchiki Rukia. Not that the two of them will ever admit it. So I got landed with this little bundle of joy. Note the heavy sarcasm. It's _very_ heavy.

"Ne – ne, Shin-Shin!" My eye twitched. _'Shin-Shin'?_ Who the hell did she think she was?

"Yes?"

"PLAY WITH ME OR DIE!" Okay, the question doesn't seem to be 'who the hell she thinks she is' any more. I'd say it's more like: 'what the hell is she on'. There's just no way any toddler can be that hyper. She's definitely drugged up. Bad Ichigo. Actually, she could have ADHD. I hope it's the drug option. At least that would wear off eventually.

"What do you want to play Rina-chan?" I asked her warily. The strawberry-blonde girl pouted.

"Rina-hime-sama." She corrected. "I want to play... Um... Er... I don't know." Came her conclusion. I sighed in exasperation.

"How the _hell_ am I supposed to play with you if you don't even know what you want to play?" Rina's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in evident shock. I grinned to myself. Serves her right for being so annoying. The brat's probably never been told off, that's why she's so shocked. A pudgy finger pointed at my chest.

"UMM! SHIN-SHIN SAID A BAD WORD! HIYORI-CHAMA!" I winced. _'Chama'?_ How babyish. And since when has Rina been in league with Hiyori?

"Rina-hime-sama? What's the matter?" I gaped at the snaggletooth who had materialized. She's actually playing that girl's game? She's never shown anyone respect in her life, except her now deceased pet snail, Bobo. Maybe she has soft spot for children? Wouldn't have guessed it – and I've known her for over a century. She's practically a child herself, both in the looks and personality departments.

"Shin-Shin said a bad word! He said - " She motioned for Hiyori to bend down, actually being shorter that the blonde vizard. Once Hiyori was on the same level as Rina, the toddler bent towards her ear and 'whispered'. "He said: _hell_." She leaned back, a self-satisfied smirk freckled across her face. Hiyori turned towards me. "He's been a very naughty boy, hasn't he?" Grinned Rina.

"Yes, he has. But don't worry, he'll be punished." The flip-flop came off. The face bruised. The child giggled – yes, _giggled_.

"That was funny! Do it again! Shin-Shin, I choose this game! I choose the Hiyori-chama-hits-Shin-Shin-with-her-flip-flop game!"

"Wha-?" I managed, an incredulous look dominating my features.

"You heard her." Hiyori advanced towards me, a scary glint in her eye. "She wants to play _that_ game." I took a step backwards, tripping over a Disney-themed ball and landing on my bum. Who put that there? Oh, right – it'd be the devil's spawn. I looked up to see two short females standing over me, identical evil smirks on their faces.

Ichigo, I swear, this is the first and last time that I ever babysit for you.


	14. Scream

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

Stars are pretty. They don't have to worry about being a vizard, defeating Aizen, or any of the mundane everyday things. They just do their own thing and glow.

It's pretty.

It's innocent.

I saw a kitten the other day. A tiny tabby. It looked at me with wide eyes, completely trusting. It was also innocent. Then it killed a baby bird. So much for its innocence.

It's the same with Aizen and the other captains that defected. Whilst they might not have been exactly innocent – what with their hollow-massacring and everything – everyone still trusted them. The betrayal was completely unexpected. Well, OK, I was suspicious of Aizen beforehand, but I never thought that he'd betray Soul Society in quite the spectacular manner that he did. As for Gin, that child was always creepy, but he was still a _child._ Tosen siding with Aizen took me by the most surprise, though. I always saw him as a dedicated soldier. True, I didn't know him very well, he was in Kensei's squad, after all, but what I knew of him would never have made me suspect him of the treachery he committed.

It wasn't entirely my fault, was it? I mean – I should've realized that Aizen was more than a dirty bastard, and I probably should've seen how Gin was always around him, but I wasn't the only one around them! Urahara and I spoke on a daily basis – Aizen always with me. He had a good chance to spot the ego and twisted mind behind the pretty-boy face. So did the other captains. And all the vice captains – they tend to be pretty tight, no matter the century. So surely if they didn't notice, then there's no way I could be expected to?

That theory also condemns me, though. Going by my own words, I should've realized that Tosen hated the Gotei 13. But that guy always talked about justice! It's hardly my fault if I didn't realize justice was butchering an organization _dedicated to saving thousands of lives._ Jeez, just thinking about his complete _lack of sense_ really annoys me.

It's my fault though, right? That's what that bastard, Aizen, said. And he's normally right. The only time he was wrong, that I can remember, is when he said that Kyōraku was drunk, but in reality he was completely plastered. Do you think Aizen could've been wrong when he said that I was to blame? I know he was trying to provoke me, but even so...

Fuck, I hate thinking like this. It makes me feel pathetic. Feeling sorry for myself won't get me anywhere. If I'm to blame, then I'll just have to make up for it by killing Aizen. Now that's something I'll enjoy.


	15. Hiyori's Final Mistake

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Bleach

I didn't know that I was drooling until my hand received an unexpected shower. I wiped it hurriedly on my trousers and my chin on my sleeve. I went back to plaiting my gorgeous, waist-length hair. To be quite honest, I think anyone would've been drooling in my position. Sitting halfway up the stairs leading to our underground training expanse gave me a first-class seat to one of the most beautiful sights a guy could witness. A hot girl (yes, Lisa is hot – Kyōraku chose her as his vice captain, after all) battling it all out. It would've been better if she'd been fighting another, equally hot girl, but I guess Kensei being Lisa's opponent is just one of those things. Anyway, with all the sweating, heavy breathing and Lisa's rather unique fighting style (featuring many acrobatics, not to mention the splits), only an _un_healthy guy wouldn't be watching greedily.

My fingers encountered a knot in their absent-minded activity. Frowning, I diverted my attention away from the show below and paid it to the offensive tangle. _Jeez,_ what happened here? It's really a mess. I wrestled against the knot with all of the grace and elegance of a ballet dancer. Ripping out my hair or unnecessarily causing myself pain would _not _be wise.

"Look out below!" I barely had time to begin _huh?_-ing before I was suddenly and painfully grabbed by my precious, luscious – you guessed it – hair. A blur I managed to make out as being Hiyori tumbled past me at an alarming speed before I followed suit. Head first. I was pulled down the stairs by my hair. Needless to say, I screamed the whole way.

The floor brought a hard and unforgiving end to the roller coaster ride. Hiyori sat up straight from her landing point on my stomach, _finally_ let go of my hair and rubbed her head with a bewildered expression on her face.

"Thought I was done for then, when I tripped up at the top of the stairs." She suddenly smirked. "Oi, thanks for slowing me down and cushioning the fall. I guess you do have your uses after all, baka Shinji."

It took all of the remaining vizards to stop me killing Hiyori then and there.


End file.
